This is a message to an exclusive and top secret list of my friends (I mean all of you. Don’t worry about your exposure here–well, to the NSA, of course. I’m sure everyone on this list is politically sophisticated enough to realize that every electronic communication of every even somewhat busy political activist in America is routinely monitored. Of course, they don’t have some shadowy Gollum lurking next door listening in on every conversation, like in the film “The Lives of Others” (great movie, by the way, if you haven’t seen it). The NSA has a huge storage facility in Utah that eats so much wattage they worry how they’re going to keep electrifying it, and is where they keep archives on all of you, too, in case of future necessity–you know what I mean. No one is safe. But the Deep State can be so stupid. It’s amazing to me that people are afraid of it (well, not really–I’m personally terrified, which is why I keep making these obviously desperate moves. You all know what I’m talking about. My personal email traffic has slowed tremendously since I decided to openly take on my former employer, the CIA. But as usual, I digress.) because they keep making these stupid, stupid moves that they don’t even seem to be aware of. The Deep State is so pockmarked with Achilles Heels it’s going to fold like an overused accordion when the time comes. Meanwhile, it is a very, very dangerous and unpredictable being–because at its heart it is so chaotic, full of factions fighting each other ruthlessly and silently for power. And it’s lurking right over your shoulder. And people don’t think we live in a police state. Jesus, what a joke. I hate it when my friends fall for CIA Jedi mind tricks–which happens all the time, by the way. Just read Rise and Fall of the Third Reich and look for the precursor, if you don’t believe it can happen to you.).
Well, to get back to business: the purpose of this message is to make three announcements, and give you a hint of a fourth.
The first announcement is the primary reason that this email is going out to all of you, my honored correspondents. As virtually all of you (perhaps a couple don’t, though you probably heard it from somebody else) know, I was supposed to have a major op-ed in the Portsmouth Herald this morning about Afghanistan and heroin, asking why—when Afghanistan remains the world’s largest supplier of heroin after 15 years of US and CIA occupation (they’re separate, I hope you realize), and in the middle of a burgeoning heroin crisis (look at today’s paper!), perhaps the worst ever, throughout the region and the nation—why in the world isn’t the CIA-linked flood of heroin coming out of Afghanistan an issue in the presidential campaign?
I mean, once you open your eyes a little bit, and wipe the jelly from your pod out of them, and step here into the temporarily too-bright light of this cybership and out of the Matrix, doesn’t the question seem obvious—even downright eerie?
Of course, the Herald editor and anybody else who watched the video of my talk, or read the extensively hyperlinked text at Free Radical Maine, knows the answer to that question.
Anybody else hasn’t been doing their homework, because I’ve been telling you all about it for weeks now, and as the editor (who’s really a good guy who saved my ass—but I’ll get to that) knows, what I attempted there was to build a solid legal case to prove that 9/11 was about heroin. And in my own opinion, of course, I did it.
As many of you have discovered recently, to some of your surprise, I’m really kind of a modest person who doesn’t actually talk a lot about himself (my wife will scoff at this, because I actually do—but usually in the context of talking about politics, one of my favorite things to do, because I have been so personally active in the unrelenting pursuit of justice my entire life, and am often discussing my latest campaign in that pursuit). Only a minority among you knew, for example, that I had worked in the Central Intelligence Agency, although my most widely read article, Paranoid Shift, which appeared on literally hundreds of websites in January 2004 (including Tikkun, where it appeared at the top of the home page under the headline, “George Bush’s Conspiracy”) and was translated into about a dozen languages, opened with an anecdote about my employment there.
Of course, except for a very few, nobody ever reads anything, really, anymore. We all skim everything. I haven’t read a complete book in several years, I think—a general phenomenon that scholars actually study. We’re all suffering from information sickness, masses of fish swimming around in the white noise sea of the Internet, and not even aware of our environment, as Marshall McLuhan so wisely observed.
And as Gore Vidal so wisely observed, perhaps our biggest fault as a society—personally, I think of it as criminal negligence, in an alleged democracy—is our collective amnesia. We don’t even remember how we came to find ourselves in this terrible state, the 2016 presidential election, the worst choice of major party candidates any American electorate has ever faced, a crook versus a con man, followed in third place—teasing us with the infinitely faint hope of respite from our two-party tyranny with the cruel but impossible chance that he’ll reach 15 percent—by a nincompoop. The one percent is mocking us to our face, and we’re lapping it up on CNN like the dimwitted sheep we have become, drinking at their Pond of Forgetfulness, soothed by the melody of the Mighty Wurlitzer, watching, endlessly watching….endlessly watching.
Not acting, that’s for fucking sure, or we wouldn’t be in this mess.
Meanwhile, I’ve got to hurry along here, because I’m supposed to be doing something for someone on this list (whose name will never be revealed), and she’s probably wondering why I’m not there. I’ll be there as soon as I’m done, I promise, you-know-who.
Anyway, to continue…At this point, I will reveal the only person who will be exposed on this list, but ultimately, he won’t mind, because it will be okay in the end if he plays his cards right. And from what I know of him, he’s probably a pretty sharp card player. So come on down, Mr. Editor!
As you must surely realize, Mr. Editor, you have embarrassed me mightily this morning in front of a bunch of my friends. And by doing so, you have given me the absolute right to do the same to you—as you must also realize if you know anything at all about the law of karma, a universal law always in operation. But as you also know if you know anything about the law of karma, it’s a lot better to take it quick, before the interest builds up in the ozone, and it comes back to kick you in the ass even harder than you actually deserve.
But if you take it quick…see, it’s over already! Because, as I said before, to my complete surprise, and I’m sure now to yours as well, for a variety of complex and unexpected political reasons that I don’t have time to go into now, and will, if the situation develops positively, probably never reveal, until we all are dead (including me, which might be sooner than I think, for a guy in as good a shape as I am, if I keep this shit up. From my reading of history, some “accident” can happen anytime, under these circumstances. My wife is talking about taking out life insurance, so she can cash in. I suggested she also set up a betting pool, so my other friends can get rich, too. But in all honesty, I’m not really that worried about it. Under “neototalitarianism”—the term I’ve associated with our present system for quite some time now, and which the late political scientist Sheldon Wolin named “inverted totalitarianism,” or “managed democracy,” unless you really piss the Deep State off by revealing something they don’t want exposed (hmmm…uh, oh), like Chelsea Manning did, most dangerous subversives just get dropped in the memory hole, like Sibel Edmonds. Who? Precisely.), you have done me a huge fucking favor.
Of course, the op-ed will now appear at Free Radical Maine, (as will this) so everyone will get to read the Pulitzer quality (if I may again be so immodest) submission I gave you the choice of publishing as either a letter or an op-ed, and you replied within minutes that you’d take it, tempted as you were, and asked for a color headshot so you could run it Sunday.
Thank God for that. That email will serve as the very slim reed on which I’ll build my otherwise groundless lawsuit against the Herald for breach of contract, should I ever require such a tactic in my lifelong, unrelenting one-man (actually, that’s a major inaccuracy, as my fellow underground rebels know, but too complicated to go into now, with you-know-who probably tapping her foot, so just accept it as a rhetorical device) war against the Deep State.
The first rule of nonviolent guerilla action is to adapt, and if at some point that requires a lawsuit, then you of all people—having been so entertained by the bio in my press release that, even though you didn’t publish it when it would do any good, you were curious enough to send a reporter, thereby kicking off yet another chain of events—should know, that’s exactly what you’re going to get. But it won’t be personal. I actually like you, even though we’ve never formally met.
Giddy as a schoolgirl (Christ, is that trite), I contacted some of my closest friends to let them know about this extremely rare mainstream opportunity to advance 9/11 Truth ever so slightly down the otherwise obstacle-strewn path of the American propaganda system. In fact, only one or two people ever saw the essay I sent, because I wanted to honor the promise of giving you a 24-hour exclusive—the very last time I will ever make such a promise to a mainstream hack (Will I never stop insulting this guy? Well, probably not. As my unfortunate friends, my seven sisters, and my long-suffering wife can tell you, I’m a terrible tease. But it’s all in good fun. Usually.) Anyway, thanks for the humiliation, guy.
But I think I know why you didn’t publish it. After you accepted it for publication, I sent you a couple of sly little emails to test your resolve, because I need people with some courage to help me, and you have that in spades. And I want to assure the other readers of this email that what I said in the letter to the editor you published last Tuesday remains just as true today, even though you didn’t publish my op-ed.
Ever since I moved here, my admiration for the Herald’s integrity and willingness to tackle controversial issues has only grown.
But what I learned in my information fishing in those emails is that you’re a firm Hillary supporter (of course, I already knew that), and what you figured out, crafty devil that you are, is that I intend to spend the next seven weeks making the only logical choice in the 2016 presidential campaign, Green Party candidate Jill Stein (who I haven’t really endorsed before yet, though everybody thinks I have) the next president of the United States. So no media platform for you, Mr. Radical!
I look forward to crossing swords with you, Mr. Editor, as we champion our respective candidates. You are a helluva guy.
Well, if you haven’t figured it out yet, that’s my second announcement, which I’d hoped to embellish a little more, but I’m going to be at you-know-who’s ‘til midnight as it is, because it’s already taken me almost two thousand words to get through the first one. But since I know this Green endorsement upsets and alarms some of my friends, I’ll be back in the next few days to fill out the details, and explain why I think Jill—terrible candidate that she is, but that can be fixed. Did you know that she has a fabulous voice and plays guitar better than I do? Just give that woman some charisma and she’ll be fine—is going to be our next president. The good(?) ship Hillary is taking on water fast, and at this point I think Jill is the only one who can save us from President Rump. But I’ll get into that in the next installment of Top Secret Update, because I’ve gotta run.
(I suppose I should add that those Democratic Party officials on board here, and there are actually quite a few, are free to request my resignation as secretary of the South Berwick Democratic Party, as you have every right to do under these circumstances, even though I’ll be working my heart out for everybody else on the Democratic ticket. I’ll respond accordingly—whatever that means.)
The third announcement is that my appointment to the national council of Alliance for Democracy as the New England Regional Representative was finalized this week. Also more on that later. I celebrated my appointment by challenging the Republican economist who co-wrote the business-friendly, watered-down TPP analysis that was the subject of the Maine Citizen Trade Policy Commission hearing in Portland on Thursday—who said in his testimony that the debate between Marxist and capitalist economics was “settled”—to a debate with an actual Marxist. Naturally, he chickened out after the meeting. No surprise. That’s what happens when you confront a bully, which he was trying to be in his testimony. You can watch this debate challenge, as well as the first public acknowledgement of my new appointment, in the first five minutes of this video. Again, more on this later.
The partial announcement is that for the past few months, I’ve been organizing a benefit concert for Seacoast Peace Response, and the final details just fell into place this week. It will happen at the South Church in Portsmouth on Friday, November 11th at 8 pm, and will feature five outstanding local bands (including the debut of my new folk rock group, Mike Hasty & the Wildlings). The headliner will be Joanne Connolly (who you all know and love as the director of Voices from the Heart and Con Tutti), in one of her rare appearances as a solo jazz artist, backed up by the Ray DeMarco Quartet.
Mr. Editor will fill you in on the rest of the important details in his paper later, as a reward for his suffering through my feeble attempts to embarrass him today. He really is a good guy. Trust me. Or not, I guess. I’ve said some pretty terrible things about the American media. If I were whatsoever important, they’d be accusing me of flip-flopping. The American media, of course, has no mind for subtlety.
If you need a break from the oppressive 2016 election dreariness (here’s a bonus mini-announcement) I’ll be jamming with the house bands at Dolphin Striker on Monday nights and Daniel Street Tavern on Wednesdays. Come on down and have some fun.
Well, that’s it for Top Secret Update (I think I’ll call it that) for now. There will be another one soon, and I hope you will all, like me, post and share this on social media widely. In case you didn’t already know, the revolution will not be televised. Obviously. I mean, if it were, everybody would know that it’s already happening, everywhere, underground.
Seeya on the nonviolent barricades. Time to overthrow the Deep State.
Mike (or Michael. Take your pick.)